


One Step Forward

by ThatwasJustaDream



Series: Everything You Want [5]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Belonging, Bondage, Boundary Pushing, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Deepthroating, Established Dom/Sub relationship, Fear of loss, Humiliation, M/M, Marking, Mindfuck, Nipple Clamps, Paddling, Painplay, Poor Mike, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting in a bar leads to revelations - and complications unforeseen that could derail them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Gambling Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a dom/sub 'verse. It can work as a 'stand alone,' but the series link contains the other fics leading up to it. This one is darker, as they hit an unexpected rough patch in their relationship....

Harvey fiddled with his scotch, spinning it on the bar. It helped, futzing with it a little; vented his impatience, and the low roll of nervous energy running through him. It did not, though, help with the cubic ton of _want_ he was feeling. Not a bit.

What he wanted was to be home right now: In his own bed, twisting around with _him_ nice and easy ‘til they were almost breathless. Opening him with slicked fingers, nipping at his ass and thighs, taking him gently and then going harder, holding those hips, pushing him into the mattress until their hearts were racing and Mike was groaning, falling off the rails for him, and....

“For cripe’s... sake…” he stopped fiddling, the amber liquid in the rock glass sloshing around.

You can’t always get what you want, Harvey thought. Sometimes…you get what someone else needs.

“How’s the drink?” The bartender asked on his way by.

“Perfect,” Harvey tilted the bottom of the glass of single malt at him. “Just as I’d hoped.”

At least _something_ was going his way.

“Awesome,” the guy’s hands were flying. His other customers were getting inventive with their requests for blender drinks. “I don’t take that bottle off the shelf much.”

“Let’s give it another workout before I go, then…” Harvey saw him smile at the big bump in his tip another pour of that particular scotch entailed.

This wasn’t a horrible place, as airport bars in Cincinnati went: Big, and dark with mahogany paneled walls. Clean tiles on the floor. Many 4K TV screens. Harvey had picked his seat for people watching: Aimed at the door, a view of …the guy walking in.

_Holy….hell._

He looked edible. Dressed well, but for flying comfortably: Pricey running shoes and Armani track pants with a black cashmere sweatshirt. The dark clothes made his blue eyes and the gold in his hair stand out. Harvey felt conspicuous - buttoned down and courtroom ready as he was.

The guy was pleasing in ways other than sartorial, too. He was tall. Slender. Something about how he carried himself said he was up for anything. And those eyes….

Harvey turned his gaze back at the TV screens. There was an art to this: Pulling someone toward you with glances. Reeling them in without over-playing and losing them to….

...a tall, tan woman with black hair and a frilly white blouse cut down to her navel, an empty seat next to her. Harvey took a long pull at his scotch as the guy looked them each over, chose, and then walked his way.

“This seat taken?” 

"Help yourself,” Harvey nodded, eyes on the basketball game. “Oh….shit. Dammit.”

“Got money on that one?” The guy was tucking his carry on bag under the bar.

“Yeah. Nothing I’ll miss, but… it's a hell of a lot more fun when I _don’t_ lose.”

"I hear you.”

The bartender arrived too quickly. Then there was an awkward pause.

“So are you a gambling man?” Harvey asked, before the guy could pull out a phone and retreat into its screen.

“Sure,” Blue Eyes sat back, a hint of a smile at one corner of his mouth. “Took a chance on you, didn’t I?”

“Ah... so that wasn’t my imagination. It _felt_ like it was between me and her.”

“Know why you have the edge?”

“You’re not into spectacular cleavage?”

“Correct. Sort of. I mean…she’s gorgeous, but…so are you. And you won’t want my phone number. Hell, you won’t even want my name.”

“I do, though,” Harvey felt the need to spar with him, as much as anything. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

He blushed at Harvey’s come-on. Actually…blushed.

“Um, I’m sorry. I was kind of …kidding,” he said, and suddenly Harvey’s heart was pounding again – not in a good way. “I thought you’d know that I was…”

“Kidding? I didn’t. My apologies,” He reached out a hand. “No offense taken, I hope. I’m Harvey.”

“I’m… Al.” Al said, accepting the handshake, returning it solidly. “You can call me…”

“You can call me Al. Yeah…I get it,” Harvey practically coughed around his scotch.

“I’m … sorry. I’m …just careful with my personal information. That’s all.”

“No problem. I’m really Harvey, by the way. They cancel your flight, yet?”

“Looks that way. Blizzard here, and a Nor’easter back home..." he kicked back in his seat a little, sipping at his own scotch. “The Perfect Storm. That’s what they’re calling it on the news reports. So… where are you going?”

“Just got to town for the week, actually,” Harvey said. “You?”

“New York,” he pulled out his phone; checking messages, text alerts. "I see that’s so not happening: The whole airport just shut down. The line for the cabs into town.… it must be…. shit…. it must be a mile long.”

The odds of him finding an open hotel room, even if he found a cab? They both knew there was a zero before the decimal point.

“This might sound suspect, given the start we’ve gotten off to,” Harvey said, voice as level as he could keep it. "But… I have a suite booked. With a spare couch in it.”

“If you have a room… why the hell are you sitting here?”

“I’m watching the end of this cluster fuck of a game to see if the tide turns,” Harvey said. “And part of me hoped to spot someone worth taking along.”

“The hottie with half a blouse on is still available.”

“Umm…no. She does look high maintenance. Plus, I can charge you for the couch since we are clearly not hooking up.”

“Okay,” Al looked skeptical, but this was an actual emergency. “Let’s head after this one, though, if that’s all right with you? I’ve gotta be back here at dawn – try to get a flight to the city and be in court by Noon…”

“Lawyer?” Harvey asked.

“Yep. Corporate attorney. You?”

“Import Export.”

“What do you Import? And export?” The guy smiled around the rim of his glass as he took a long sip. “Don’t tell me corn chips and diapers.”

“Uh, no… not… those. Why corn chips and…”

“Never mind. It’s not important. You’re not running drugs, are you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Arms dealer?”

“Why do you think.…”

“That’s what people are really up to when they say Import Export. Isn’t it?” He was looking him up and down like he was seeing Harvey in a new light. “Especially the ones dressed like you. They’re always up to nothing good. So…which is it? Drugs or guns?”

“Neither,” Harvey said. “But I’ll still have to kill you if I tell you, so….”

“Forget I asked. I don’t want to sleep with the fishes. Or on the floor by Gate Fifteen.”

“Good call,” Harvey said. "I’ll phone for a car. ‘Cause we sure as hell don’t want to stand in the queue.”

~*~

The other advantage to calling for a limo was that they didn’t have to rush through their drinks. They spent a comfortable half an hour at the bar together, talking about nothing much and watching Harvey’s team lose – until his phone vibrated with the text message announcing it was waiting.

“Please run this before you leave the curb,” Harvey handed the driver a credit card, as the driver loaded their bags into the trunk. “Put a fifty percent tip on it. And when we get there? We’ll grab our own things. Stay in the car and pop the trunk for us.”

As their doors closed, Harvey could tell the large tip and instructions hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Do you come to Cincinnati a lot?” His acquaintance asked, voice tight as the limo pulled away and Harvey hit the switch for the privacy screen. 

“No. I don’t,” Harvey said, giving him a hint of a ‘you didn’t really ask me that?’ with his eyes, both of them silent as the screen whirred its way down and finished dropping with a click.

“It’s…my first …uh…time. Here.” Al swallowed heavily.

The easy camaraderie they’d had at the bar was almost gone. The guy looked as nervous as Harvey had felt earlier, sitting there waiting.

“Why did you backpedal?” Harvey asked, sprawling a little on the seat, watching him pull back an inch at the way Harvey was relaxing into their shared space. “At the bar? Why did you suddenly pretend you weren’t hitting on me?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“It always is. But… c’mon. You’re not really going to give me a line about how you almost never do this?”

“No. That’s not it. It’s…. tricky because my _needs_ are not…vanilla. They’re …a couple of shelves away from vanilla in the freezer, and ….”

“What do you mean, exactly? That you like it rough? I’m not surprised; I could taste the submissive pouring off of you from the first minute I saw….”

“Rough is relative.”

“Good point,” he leaned in, demanding without a word that the guy meet his gaze. “Let’s be specific, then. Tell me what you want.”

“I want…..” Harvey watched him fighting to get the words out of his mouth, eyes anywhere but on Harvey. “I want the kind of rough that ….I want to feel used. Humiliated. Like a fucktoy.”

“You can’t get that at home?”

“No. I have a dom. I think he’s drawn some limits, though. You know? Because we’re not just about …this anymore.”

“You haven’t actually asked him? For what you want?”

“Not out loud. Do we have to talk about why?”

“Not now,” Harvey said. “Maybe later. I won’t make it a condition, though, obviously – since I’m letting it slide at the moment. Is he okay with you fucking other men?”

“He says he is. I don’t think he really likes the idea at all, but…he agreed. Before I left town.”

Harvey relaxed back into his side of the car, watching him. Noting the blush, again, on those cheekbones and the way his breathing was going fast and shallow under Harvey’s gaze; the ramping up of anticipation now that they were getting down to it and questions were being asked of him.

“What else do you want?” Harvey said.

Worth pushing him. Couldn’t hurt. ‘Cause there was clearly something he’d still left unsaid.

“I never get … a mouth-fucking. He always lets me run the show when it comes to that and…”

“Got it,” Harvey cut him off, reaching to unbutton the collar of his shirt, to pull apart his tie. “I hear you. Humiliation. Fuck toy. Tonsil massage. I’m pretty sure… I can help you with all three. Take your sweatshirt off….”

“We’re starting here?” He asked, but he complied, drawing it over his head to reveal a tight black t-shirt underneath as he tugged it away.

“No,” Harvey stopped him from pulling the tee off with it, too. “Not the main course, anyway. Only some marking you up; an appetizer for the ride into town. Hope you don’t mind bruises?”

“I don’t. I mean… I don’t mind. You can.”

“Good. Hands behind your head. Hold one wrist with the other…perfect.”

“Not a lot of time to talk rules…is there?”

“I planned to get there,” Harvey said it in a tone of voice that suggested he stop trying to run things from here in. “Are you good with a simple ‘red, yellow, green?”

“Yeah.”

“So am I,” Harvey sat up and reached to thread his tie around him from forearm to forearm, knotting it. “One more thing. I want you to say your name…your real name. And I want you to tell me again…what you want.”

“ _Harvey_ ….”

“My only condition. Do it…or we stop. Now.”

“My …name is Mike Ross,” he heard Mike say, voice going softly, deeply embarrassed. “And I want… to get used. Hard. Like a fuck toy. I want….”

“Good …you’re doing fine….keep going…” 

“….humiliation. And to gag on your cock until I grey out. I want no mercy unless I signal yellow or red and…I won’t. I fucking _won’t_ ….”

“We’ll see about that,” Harvey dropped in to bite at his lip. “....we'll see.”

Maybe this was it, he thought as he nipped from his mouth over his jaw and down Mike’s neck. 

Maybe this _was_ the night to push him over the line.


	2. Part of You Wants This, Too

Mike had started them here on a morning when a cold March rain washed out their Sunday plans, and made going back to bed after breakfast the perfect option.

“Why do you leave it all up to me? When I go down on you?”

The question hit Harvey’s ear almost like a non sequitur, considering nothing like sex was happening; just them in sweatpants, Harvey with a tee on, Mike warm and bare-chested in his arms. Still, those words out of Mike’s mouth – his voice low and contemplative, like he was picturing the last time, maybe…. 

It was enough to make something stir in Harvey; to cause him to pull Mike in closer and skim the palm of a hand over his side, to slide it in past the top of his sweatpants and rest it against the spot where lower back met sweet ass-cheek.

“You think I leave it all up to you?” 

“C’mon. You know you do. You never …force things. Right?”

"I guess it's as simple as 'I don't need to,'" Harvey hit pause on the remote with his free hand as credits rolled on movie number one. "I tell you what I want. I guide you with my hands, my body...."

“Yeah. You put me where you want me. Or tug at my hair, which... _shit_ , in case you didn't know already I'm in love with how you do that. Separately and independently from being in love with _you_ I’m in love with _that_. But you never mouth-fuck me. Why?”

“Well...” Harvey pulled Mike in closer. "Oral’s your favorite. Isn’t it? _I_ think you like being in charge of how you give it. Plus, the way your mouth feels? There’s nothing to fix; not a damn thing.”

Mike was visibly more stressed in spite of the reassurance - pulling away and flopping onto his back, restless. Harvey leaned up to look at him, but resisted the urge to calm him, opting to wait for what would come next.

“Remember asking me if there were things I wanted to try?” Mike had finally said. 

“Sure. How could I forget?”

“When I suggested recording us, and fucking to it… I was going with low hanging fruit.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“ _Harvey_ …..”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to spill all your hidden desires at once. You obviously want to delve in some more, so...go ahead. Tell me.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you’ll be on board with everything I want. And I’m not even sure I can say it out loud. I’ve practiced, and it's…shockingly difficult, even with no one else in the room.”

"There aren't diapers involved, are there?” Harvey couldn't help that popping out, his brain working through all the things they’d done together. “No baby bottles?"

"What? Geez....no, don’t…. even _joke_ like that. No."

"Is it... scatological? 'Cause it’s really....really something I’d nev..."

"No! C'mon, please…. _stop_. Stop it."

Mike was blushing hard; cheeks bright pink, a hand going reflexively over his eyes.

"Hey .... whoa," Harvey got up over him; to press kisses to his forehead, to Mike's mouth, to cover and comfort him with his whole body. "It’s okay. I wasn't being glib. Or if I was… I didn’t mean to be. You can tell me. I won’t judge you."

"You might regret that statement."

He was calming down, at least; was even kissing Harvey back.

"I think we should let this go for now,” he dropped down, pressing a few more kisses over Mike’s chest, fishing out the remote that had gotten in between them. He handed it to him as he lay with his head on Mike’s belly. "Write it all down. Leave me a note, and then we'll take it from there.”

“That could work," Mike had said, a hand threading into Harvey’s fluffy weekend hair, contentedly dialing-up movie number two. "Good idea, thanks.”

~*~

_God ….damn…._

Harvey found it on the kitchen counter early Tuesday morning; Mike already gone and Harvey headed to a client meeting in Connecticut. 

When he got to Stamford, a quarter of an hour late, he barely remembered the ride.

It was like Mike had tapped into his darker urges as a dom and offered them up on a silver platter. Or, more literally, on two pages of single-spaced block handwriting on Harvey's own stationary.

He hadn’t minced words. But he hadn’t considered all the possibilities, either - that was obvious. 

It was humbling, how much Mike had come to trust him. 

~*~

_‘Okay, now we need to talk. Early lunch?’_

_‘Sure. I'm at the office, where are you?’_

_‘Almost back from CT. Meet me at the bar at the Carlyle. Half an hour.’_

“I don’t think you would like some of the places I could go with this,” Harvey told him once the waiter left with their order. “All the things I could do to you…. how open you left it.”

“I don’t think I …did leave it open? I was pretty specif….”

“You didn’t specify privacy, for starters. Did you? You didn’t rule out me, say, bringing you to a club and sharing you around. Or giving you a raging hard on and then making you parade it around, maybe ask people on the street for directions?”

“But you…I know you wouldn’…”

“That’s mild, Mike. That’s vanilla compared to what some might…and you need to understand …this could affect _us_.”

“Because of your own limits? Or because it's me who’s asking?”

They could talk openly in their booth; the bar at the Carlyle was empty at 10:50 a.m. There were four Japanese businessmen sitting at a table on the far opposite end, immersed in conversation. The bartender was washing glasses. The rest of the booths and tables were empty.

“Of course, because it’s you,” Harvey said. "You’re not only my sub, you're my.... Mike. The closest I’ve come to being rough or humiliating you is paddling and…you’ve always been loud about not loving that. So I guess I’m also a little surprised.”

"The spankings are what actually made me realize it; that I want rougher, sometimes. They may not be my favorite, but after them? For weeks I feel more…grounded. It’s like submitting to something difficult is more effective than submitting to something easy.”

“I get that,” Harvey said. “But I don’t ever want us going over the top, you know?”

“What’s over the top?” Mike asked with an eyebrow waggle. 

“You hanging upside down from the ceiling by your ankles; bound, blindfolded, cock gag down your throat and electrodes clipped to your nipples leading to a small, black box on the floor with dials. How’s that sound to you?”

Mike had laughed so hard - so loud, that two of the Japanese businessmen turned and gave him an annoyed look.

“That’s me…deflecting,” Harvey said, “To be honest... I’ve …got really mixed feelings.”

“You aren’t using the word 'no,'" Mike sat back in the booth, gaze going down to the tabletop. "But it's what I'm hearing.”

“What if... we find you a different dom for this kind of thing?”

That changed the mood in a hurry: Mike actually gasped, a low, punched-in-the-gut sound - his eyes narrowing as he sat back, mouth popping softly open. 

“I…can’t believe … you’d be _okay_ with that?”

“Hey,” Harvey gave Mike’s shoe a light kick under the table. “C’mon: Deep breath. I knew that was probably going to be a non-starter, but I had to ask.”

“Could you do this with me, if it wasn’t me?”

The way Mike was visibly blinking back his feelings? Harvey guessed he had a plan.

“Not _you_.... as in…”

“We’re going to Cincinnati in ten days for pre-trial discovery. You’re flying out ahead of me. What if, when I get there, we role-play?"

“I …don’t know if that helps,” Harvey looked for the best words. “I am who I am, Mike. I’m not one for fake names and play acting.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Shaking up our routine? Pretending to meet randomly? It might surprise you how much latitude it gives for doing a scene like we’re not _us _at all.”__

__The waiter arrived with their food then; a natural break in the conversation._ _

__“I’m not asking to change our whole sex-life,” Mike picked right back up, eventually, voice sounding like he’d thought through his last argument on this. “I don’t need this all the time, but I want to experience it – now, every so often, and with you. I’m not made of glass, Harvey. And if your feelings are mixed, it means part of you wants it, too.”_ _

__Well, damn. When had anyone accused him of being too solicitous of them?_ _

__“I’ll text you,” Harvey said. “I’ll think about it… I’ll text ‘yes’ or ‘no’ the day of your flight to Cincy, okay?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Mike had looked relieved - and fully heard, if nothing else. “More than okay.”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Phones being attitudinal sometimes, the text message didn’t arrive until after the plane landed – a bumpy one, with the snow rolling in. Mike was still in his seat as it taxied to the gate, sure it would say ‘no.’_ _

__Except it said ‘yes.’_ _

__He hadn’t known exactly how he’d find Harvey in the airport- they hadn’t talked about it. But it wasn’t hard to figure out he’d be waiting for him in a bar, and it wasn’t hard to figure out which of the three bars available Harvey would pick._ _

__Mike had spotted him before he walked in, and had stopped flat, watching him for a few seconds. There was his Harvey, but for the rest of the night…it wasn’t his Harvey. Not entirely._ _

__It made his stomach fall and his heart beat faster._ _

__He pulled in a long, deep breath – and walked into the bar._ _

__~*~_ _

__“It looks like you _will_ be putting on a show,” Harvey cupped the tent in Mike’s pants, squeezing lightly. “At least a short one; it’s not far to the elevators from the hotel doors, unfortunately.”_ _

__Mike didn’t say anything back; looked right out the car window at the traffic going by and the snow sticking to the window and pressed his hips up to push into Harvey’s hand._ _

__He was leaned back with his head in the crook between the seat and window, stretched out for Harvey’s enjoyment; t-shirt still up almost to his shoulders, his chest and abs decorated with six fresh bites; pink, red and purple of varying sizes that he’d be wearing a while._ _

__“Wait,” Mike said as fingers tugged down his track pants, but the rest of the thought went unfinished as Harvey’s free hand covered his mouth and pressed back hard._ _

__“We’re ten minutes from the hotel, with this traffic,” Harvey leaned down to mouth at Mike through his boxer briefs, talking between breath-heated presses and dry sucks. “Don’t talk, and don’t come. You don’t come until I say. You don’t say a word except to color or to answer a question. Understood?”_ _

__The hand left his mouth._ _

__“Yes,” Mike said._ _

__“Good,” Harvey urged him to lift his hips, sliding down the briefs, too, taking Mike’s cock in hand and stroking slowly. “Don’t forget, because I won’t wait to punish you. When we get there, the elevator to our room is to the right past the lobby.”_ _

__Mike nodded, eyes going back out the window, focusing on the pleasure of being squeezed and teased, and on not letting that pleasure build. He let his eyes close._ _

__“Hey…no!” he heard Harvey order, felt a slap to his thigh that stung. “Open them. Stay with me…”_ _

__Mike did, meeting his gaze. Locking eyes._ _

__“That’s better,” Harvey said, smiling at the glower the slap had got him. “That’s my boy.”_ _


	3. Unraveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, for those who might not like it: This chapter includes descriptions of pain-play, and Harvey indulging his (slightly) more sadistic side - entirely with Mike's permission.

Mike had never been happier to watch an elevator door close.

The walk through the hotel lobby was embarrassing enough to make the back of his neck heat, but it didn’t discourage the hard on tenting his pants like a carnival was going on in there. 

He pulled his sweatshirt down, but Harvey’s hands tugged it back up - giving him a push that made him gasp and almost made him lose his footing.

“Knees….” Harvey said, as the elevator started moving. “Now.”

Mike dropped his shoulder bag, sinking down. A palm pressed the crown of his head toward the wall as Harvey’s other hand reached; fingers tracing over Mike’s lips, pressing in. Mike sucked them, eyes closing as Harvey finger-fucked his mouth. 

“No more pretending,” Harvey said, the words slow and heavy. “This is me and you. Got it?”

He slid his fingers out.

“Yes, sir,” Mike flicked his tongue over his wet lower lip.

“There’s one thing you asked for I won’t do. I won’t make you verbally abuse yourself, or call you a _sick fuck_ \- because you’re not. Understood?”

“Yes, Harvey…”

A hand grabbed his shirt, another reaching under his arm; Mike stood.

“Everything else?” Harvey steered him left as the doors opened. “You’re getting.”

~*~

Mike evened out his breathing; worked at calming his nerves on the way to the room. It didn't last.

“ _Shit!_ ” he shouted. 

Harvey had pushed him again - solidly, unexpectedly, as the door shut. Such a simple thing, but so deeply frustrating getting shoved around by him. He barely kept his footing.

“Three strikes per word,” Harvey said; hands on Mike’s shoulders again, sending him back to his knees, pressing Mike’s forehead toward the floor.

Out of nowhere, a paddle flew at him; must have been left waiting at the door. The first strike to his ass was so hard it made his eyes water. His head started spinning as the next two fell and the pain radiated - hating the hurt but loving the rush. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Harvey left him; let him get up slowly, bringing over a black paper shopping bag with ribbons for handles and dumping the contents on the mattress. Mike tried to get look, but Harvey shoved him down on his back; Mike’s feet on the floor, ass still vibrating from the paddle.

His eyes went to the ceiling as Harvey tugged his pants down.

“Toe your shoes off.”

He did, Harvey roughly removing the pants and more gently divesting him of his briefs. 

“Put all of this on the nightstand, then finish undressing and kneel on the bed…” Harvey wrapped a hand around Mike’s cock as he instructed him, moving it up and down, grip so loose it was purely a tease. “Keep your eyes on the floor while you wait.”

He stayed put until he heard the click of the bathroom door then pulled off his sweatshirt and tee, looking over the bite marks on his body and the items on the bed. Harvey had to have gotten them here in town: Some people might travel with a suitcase full of toys but neither of them, Mike thought, was that guy. 

There was a soft leather belt for his wrists and equally buttery leather cuffs for his ankles. A sponge ball meant to be thrown for coloring-out if his mouth was full, and the paddle he’d already gotten a dose of; stainless steel, short and thick with smooth, rounded nubs. 

He took them to the table and went back for one of the last items; a rubber dildo – mostly hollow with a hard center and a hand pump attached. Inflatable. 

“Yikes,” He gave the pump ball three quick squeezes and watched it expand in the hand he’d cupped around it. “That’s…not small.”

There was a ring gag made of steel under the rough leather it was wrapped in. It had firm flaps that would sit at the sides of his mouth to keep his jaw stretched wide, and straps that would snap behind his head. Last was an eye mask, and gold nipple clips with a gold chain made of flat, edgy links. 

Mike put it all in some kind of order, then pulled down the bed sheets and got on top of the mattress, kneeing his way to the middle. The room was warm but he shivered deeply, once, all the way from his shoulders to tailbone. 

Then he shook out his arms, hands at his sides. Eyes on the floor. 

~*~

Harvey took two steps from the bathroom toward the bed, eyes on Mike. 

If Mike _ever_ figured out how much effort it took - the patience required to work him step by step; to restrain the urge to eat him alive and make him pop in a minute flat. Jesus. It was almost never easy.

Harvey was flipping the tube of lube in his left hand without realizing it; set it down on the nightstand, and focused on the thing in his right.

"Know what you’ve started?" he asked, standing to Mike’s side, keeping out of his direct field of vision. "How much I've been thinking about this all week?"

He raised his phone and took a first photo, the 'snap' sound from the camera loud in the quiet room. Mike jumped like he'd been physically jolted; flinching, mouth falling open. He kept his eyes down, though, even when Harvey stepped around and took three more.

"’Before' shots," he tossed the camera on the mattress, getting on the bed to kneel up behind him. "To go with the 'during' and ‘after.’”

He’d kept his shirt on with his briefs; knew Mike felt even more naked when Harvey was dressed. He got proof of it again as Mike sank back against him - at the feel of the cloth on his back, the tails of it tracing along his sides as Harvey wrapped arms around him.

"Lucky for you, I don't know anyone here," Harvey squeezed; rutting against him, hands wandering, Mike keeping his arms down and letting him. "I had to discard my first idea, to have someone else waiting for us. That’s what the blindfold was for; to see if you could tell who was in your mouth, if it was me or not. Punishing you if you couldn’t."

Mike made a sound at that, one full of ‘no.’

"I do know people at home..." He said it against Mike's ear, and saw Mike's eyes drop shut. "I'm not big on clubs, but …they come in handy. Sometimes you get hooked up with a sub. So these pictures of you? I’m going to use them to pay off a debt. And you'll hand deliver them.”

The words had landed, from the pink coloring Mike's cheekbones again. But it was important to get a clear yes; Mike slid faster into the fog, lately – so much faster.

"Say it back for me."

"You're going to show me ... _taking_ this," Mike’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Pictures. I’ll deliver them. I don’t want to but… I will. If you say to…”

"That’ll be pretty awful, won’t it?” he let his right hand slide, gliding over Mike's chest, tracing his lower abs, fingers dropping to tickle at his pubes before taking him in hand and tugging. "Having to face the guy? Talk to him? Not knowing where they might end up. You're not even close to an exhibitionist...”

Harvey heard the first groan since they’d gotten out of the car, and stroked harder; added a twist, sliding his left arm up, cupping the front of Mike's neck to feel it against his palm.

"I'll tie your wrists and ankles," Harvey slowed his hand, thumb finding the spot at the back of his dick that would slow this down, pressing, smearing the wet that slid off the head and over his thumbnail. "I'll use the clips and the chain and see how wide you can take the dildo. I'll fuck your mouth as hard as you asked for. Questions? Concerns?”

"Do I get to pick?" Mike asked. "The pictures?”

Smart ass. Even now; half way into his headspace and almost boneless…

"No. But you get another spanking,” He pressed him forward on the bed, Mike’s head dropping between his folded arms. "For sass. As many hits as I want…"

Mike had kept his sounds in for the first paddling, but was letting go of them now; incoherent objections, at first, then stoic grunts, and then a kind of broken-open sound, his body twisting and jumping on the mattress. His ass cheeks, pink before, glowed red by the time Harvey was done.

"Kneel back up," he tossed the paddle on the floor. "Hands behind you at mid-back and hold your wrists."

~*~

Kneeling in bondage was so familiar by now that it was almost comforting. But Mike hadn't considered what you could do to someone with a simple, long gold chain.

He was working so hard to stay up tall for him as ordered; Harvey in front of him at the foot of the bed muttering words of encouragement. But the longer he stayed up, the more Harvey's index finger pulled down on the 'O' ring where the chain flipped over itself and the harder the two alligator clips pulled on Mike's tightly pinched aereolas.

He could take the pain - for a while. When it was too much he would sink down toward his heels, hissing. The second he did, Harvey would flip his finger around and pull up; hard enough that the other end of the chain, looped between his balls and around his ball sack, drew in - tightening and tightening and... _fuck_ , oh fuck ... _oh.......fuck…._

He was panting; making wounded, whining sounds, sweat beads rolling down his spine from nothing more than a few minutes of pain applied very patiently. He’d…had no idea…something so…simple….

"I think you like this,” Harvey leaned in to brush his mouth over Mike’s cheek, his ear, licking and biting the spot where jaw met neck. “Do you?"

"No...." Mike started up again, and for a second Harvey let the chain go slack entirely. "Fuck....I don't."

"Then why am I getting so many pretty sounds out of you? No red? Not even a yellow?"

Harvey never punished him for pausing them; wouldn't get pissy, Mike knew, even if he said 'red.' But he'd asked for this - was only getting what he asked for, if somewhat more creatively than he may have hoped...so…no way he was coloring-out.

"That was four words,” Harvey pointed out. “Twelve more strikes, later..." 

Mike watched Harvey biting his lip, eyes wandering over him; felt him give a couple of gentle touches on his side, his hips suggesting Mike lift up again as Harvey's finger found the loop in the chain and pulled down harder.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful it is when you get frantic? I've never enjoyed that look on anyone… as much as I like it on you..."

Harvey had taken many pictures; might have even hit the camera app, too, right at the point when Mike had been most deeply caught up in this - the rhythmic motions, focusing on every sweet second of release and riding the next new round of hurt.

The phone was down on the bed, now, though as Harvey unhooked the lower half of the chain from his balls. Mike felt relief flowing for a few seconds - then fear slamming back through him as fingers wound the metal snugly around and around his cock, base to tip. 

“Eyes up for me,” Harvey said, and he did: Met Harvey’s hazy but intent, deeply pleasured gaze, felt Harvey pulling the chain tighter.

The individual links were flat and rough, some sideways and digging into him…biting….

Mike wanted to let go of every combination of _shit, no, please, stop_ that he could, but he thought of his sore ass cheeks and went with a long, low rasping sound of objection instead, hips thrusting like his body was trying to shake the chain off for him.

"Shhhh, it' s okay... it's okay...." Harvey hushed him, leaning in to press their foreheads together, eyes down on where he was working him. He let the chain go loose, then pulled it again - _tight, loose, tighter_ – slow, then faster, faster, over and over and.... 

Mike’s eyes squeezed shut; silver bursts of light behind his lids like he was greying out. The pain wasn’t only in his cock, it was building into a shivering, stinging wave of hurt pulsing into his abdomen, his hole, down his thighs. If it didn't stop... he'd have to... he couldn't....no…no… _noooo…._

He was _shouting_ it; yelling no. And it didn’t even sound like him – it sounded like it someone else.

"Good... so good. You did great..."

Harvey stopped a second before he would have fallen, catching him.

The chain got unwound fast - swinging free, again. Mike leaned on him, Harvey putting a knee up on the bed to better handle it. Mike felt the tears rolling down his face, Harvey’s shirt soaking them in.

"You can talk to me," Harvey’s hands reached to undo the belt around Mike's wrists, and help him shake out his heavy arms. "How are you? Are we done?"

"No… not done. That was.... I don't know. So fucking weird. It felt... so...bad, but ...good bad."

That much pain, unexpected? Watching Harvey enjoy what it did to him? Mike felt himself shaking.

"I know," Harvey said.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"I want to hear that story."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Feeling better?”

"Yes."

"Brace yourself; I'll take the clips off...."

That pulled another shout and a long, low moan out of him. Then Harvey gave him some time while he put the chain away; checked him over up and down - looked for any cuts or bruises. Mike heard him say something about a purple mark, and some red pressure marks on his dick where the chain had pressed in that would fade in a few hours.

"I know pain isn't your thing," Harvey told him as Mike headed face down at the pillows he’d arranged for him. "So thank you for that."

~*~

Some people found prep boring, but Mike never complained. He loved the feeling of being fingered - worked, filled, stretched; his body bucking and heart speeding up whenever Harvey petted the spot that made him shiver. 

Not to mention it was always a few minutes to enjoy Harvey being patient with him. 

But this time...it dawned on him as the rubber dildo was filling him past his comfort level: As he heard the squeeze ball being pumped behind him and felt his hole, slick and well-fingered as it was, stretching to the point of _'oh....kay....'_

He was about to get well fucked at both ends. 

~*~

"Yessss, oh... yesssss.... _mmmmmm...._ " 

Harvey was used to hearing sounds like that out of Mike – but not used to it out of his own mouth.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't looked forward to this the most: Mike's mouth taut around the bite gag, lips white from being held wide. It was all his, that mouth; perfectly hot and slick as he thrust in again and again, Mike’s head banging on the wall, hands untied but busy - fisting and pulling at the fitted mattress sheet so hard he’d tugged an end loose.

“Fuck, _fuck_!” 

Harvey was in so deep, Mike was swallowing around him; once, twice, a third time – Mike’s body twisting as he fought not to choke, to take it like his perfect, good, sweet cocksucker.....

Harvey found it in him to pull out and give him room to breathe for a second; managed to keep an eye on Mike's clenched hand to see that the squeeze ball was still in it before his hips took over; thrusting, pushing back into that pulsating, wet heat.

He tugged at Mike’s head as he did – turned it how he wanted him, grunting at the sucking, gagging sounds Mike’s mouth and throat made around him, giving the dildo five fast pumps at the same time to make it go deeper, wider. 

Fuck if that didn't make Mike start to lose it; his whole body jumping in a way that said he was running out of air. Harvey pulled out and watched him gasping, coughing; yanked at his hair again to distract him.

"Hey," another sharp tug and Mike was looking up at him; eyes dark, and lidded. "Like what you’re getting?”

The grin Mike gave him was lewd. As cocky a challenge as any sub had given him, ever.

Harvey used that mouth until he was almost in danger of coming, himself – then flipped him over and pinned him down at the shoulders, pulling out the dildo, leaving in the mouth gag and….

“Awwwnnn….ooooo….mmgg...oooooooo….”

Mike wailed, but did not color-out when he fucked him. When he rode him like the toy he’d asked to be made into.

Neither of them was lasting much longer; not with Harvey pinning him, growling in Mike's ear. He came first, Mike right behind pushing up on his knees, shouting out a sound that was all deep, deep relief.

~*~

"Eleven...." Harvey counted out the last spanking for him: Mike face down, one hundred percent done. "Twelve. That's it."

He dropped in by Mike’s sweaty temple. 

"Are you okay?”

"Yes,” Mike stretched out flat on his belly, a leg arching, pulling in a pillow. "M’fine."

"I’ll set up the bathroom," Harvey pulled the top sheet from the foot of the bed, covering him to keep him from getting chilled as his body cooled. "I’ll come get you.”

Mike had nodded - barely. 

~*~

“I don’t need help,” Mike shook his hand off, stepping in the soaking tub. “But thanks.”

“Okay. Careful," Harvey kept an arm out, in case. “Watch out, it’s….hot. I drew it really hot, so take your time.”

Mike did: Crouching, first, to test the waters with his thighs before more delicate portions of him dropped in. He hissed, but slid and then lay back until he was up to his neck, only his head above water.

“Good?”

“Yes. We need to get one of these tubs. Epsom salts?” Mike asked.

“Dead sea,” Harvey said. “Better. More minerals.”

“What do they do?” 

“For one thing, you should be able to sit on your ass in the morning.”

“That’ll come in handy. But I don’t want all the aches to be gone. I hope they won’t _all_ be.”

“Probably not. Why would you….”

“I like having some around. Feeling it for a day or two.”

“You really are a subbie. Don't worry, the bite marks will take the usual five days.”

“If I fall asleep in here,” Mike said, sinking lower. “Don’t let me drown.”

Harvey leaned in and kissed his forehead, then searched for the beer he’d pulled from the honor bar and leaned against the sink, drinking it.

“You sure you don’t want a beverage?”

“No,” Mike said. “Are you that rough? With other people?”

“Yes,” Harvey said.

He could see Mike had more questions – but Mike stopped asking, and Harvey wasn’t going to prompt any. Not tonight.

He dried Mike off inch by inch after the bath, then arranged him face down on the bed and kissed him – cheek to shoulders, down his back and over his ass. He could caress and lick and nip at him with zero danger of arousing, because they were both so…. so done.

Mike was asleep before Harvey got to his calves. 

Harvey lay awake for quite a while. 

~*~

"Look – I found it,” Mike said, pointing at the binder lying on the restaurant table. "We pull on this thread, and their whole case unravels."

Harvey had woken up twice, the first time at 3:40 a.m. He'd sat up to check on Mike, waking him enough that Mike had rolled over into his arms. He held him, staring at the wall, trying hard not to think until they both were out again. 

The next time, he was alone and Mike’s note said he was downstairs. 

"There’s no rush,” Harvey sat, noticing approvingly how Mike had chosen a rounded booth at the far end of the room, his back to the wall so no one could get a look at the documents. "Court’s not for a while.”

Mike set the papers down and the waiter came by. Harvey ordered the oatmeal. 

"How’s your ass?"

"It’s fine,” Mike shrugged. “I'm all good."

But he’d looked away as he said it.

"We should talk about it. A lot went on last night, that I think …”

"We will. But I don't need to right now. If I did, I’d say so.”

Mike’s tone was matter of fact, not strained at all. But Harvey had seen him bluff before at work, at home and he knew Mike was good at it.

"You’re not saying it to avoid the conversation?”

"I’m not. Besides…what’s done is done. Right? Except… it's not quite done…yet. Is it?"

Harvey wasn't sure what he was talking about - why Mike suddenly looked like he’d been asked to swallow a frog. Then it dawned.

"Here,” he pulled his phone out and set it on the table. "Delete the pictures.”

"I ...no. I thought about it, and … I don't want to pick them. I sure as hell don’t want to see them. But… I’ll do what I agreed to. Because I did. Agree. To.”

Mike looked so flustered; Harvey resisted the urge to reach over and cup his cheek.

"Please…" he reached; punched in his passcode. "I need you to delete them."

He saw Mike draw in a shallow breath. Watched him open the camera roll and start flicking through, enjoying the look of confusion on Mike’s face.

"What the …hell?" 

Harvey had reviewed all twenty-three pictures before he got dressed. Made sure each of them was nothing but blurred colors with zero definition to them; vague tans and greys and pinks, with a brighter white where the bedside lamp bloomed in one corner. No audio on the blurry video, either; the record level on mute.

Mike’s smile? It made Harvey’s very mixed feelings come flooding back.

"Scotch tape," Mike peeled it off the camera lens. "Cloudy … Scotch tape."

"I thought you might catch it,” Harvey said. “Kind of surprised you didn’t, but… you were pre-occupied.”

"I thought you said you didn't like acting?"

"Call it mind-fuck," He reached, asking for Mike's hand under the table. "For the record, I would never... _ever_ share pictures of you with anyone. But if it did the job without actually humiliating you? Then it did the job.”

Mike squeezed his hand back. 

"Harvey, it feels… like maybe you’re the one who needs some aftercare today?”

He started to say something back, but the oatmeal arrived and Mike ordered more coffee - and the time that had felt so plentiful flew. 

They had to get to work.

~*~

"Want something?” Harvey asked.

"Yup,” He watched Mike pull his suitcase toward his own bedroom. "Bourbon. I’ve got some in the cupboard left of the stove. No ice….”

They were only supposed to be in Cincy a few days, but that had changed thanks to the clue Mike had found that did end up making their case. Mike had stayed on alone, eventually, to keep digging into it- then had to translate the results to the associates who flew in for the trial portion. 

That had taken almost another week.

“Want to try the Japanese place for dinner? The one I told you about?"

"Sure,” Harvey went to the kitchen to dig up the bottle. “Maybe.”

"It's great," Mike’s voice sounded muffled from two rooms away.

"So you’ve said,” he poured two short glasses for them.

Mike had looked pleasantly surprised when Harvey picked him up at the airport. He didn’t even ask why Harvey directed the cabbie toward Mike’s apartment – probably since he had his luggage on him, and his place was closer anyway.

"I know you're all about sashimi,” Mike said, louder, still from the other room. “But the dim sum? I think it’ll win you over...."

Harvey didn't answer; was futzing with one of the glasses, spinning it. Staring at it. And just like that, he was back at the airport bar - waiting for Mike, and worrying.

"Are you two-fisting it, or can I have mine?"

Mike had apparently decided to leave the unpacking for later; was right behind him now, rolling up his sleeves. The twinkle in his eyes said he was looking forward to the rest of the night.

"I missed you," Harvey said, handing a glass over.

"I missed you, too.”

He took the hand Mike offered him, letting him pull them toward the sofa. 

"Do you realize…” Mike said as he did, “…most of this month either you were gone or I was…gone…”

"Yes. I thought about it this morning. When you texted me before your flight…”

"Did I miss any excitement? Screaming matches? Brawls?"

"No,” Harvey put his glass on the end table and slid closer; hand tracing over Mike’s shoulder and behind him, cupping the back of his neck. "Come here..."

Mike didn't need a second request; Harvey watched him set his own drink down and slide toward him, meeting him half way for a kiss. They both kept it light - soft presses, barely parted mouths, Mike’s lips sweet and slick from the bourbon, his tongue poking out, barely, to look for Harvey’s.

He could feel Mike wanting to climb on his lap; to face him and take this deeper. He pulled back, but couldn’t stop kissing him. Didn’t want to.

"Screw around before dinner?" Mike asked.

"Maybe...." Harvey said.

"Huh,” Mike sat back suddenly – almost abruptly, looking him up and down and reaching for his glass again. “That’s a lot of ‘maybe.’ What’s up?”

“We should talk.”

“About what? The case? I told you…”

“The other night.”

“Oh….” Mike smiled, eyes darting around. “Right. I figured we would… you know…talk about it eventually, but…”

“I need to know what you’re thinking; about what you asked for and what we did?” 

“Short answer?” Mike said. “I’m not sorry. I liked some of it a lot. But you were a hundred percent right on a few things.”

“Like what?”

“I do want to be in charge of how I go down on you. I’m not saying I never want it rougher again, but… you were right. That wasn’t my favorite thing, ever. Is that okay?”

“One hundred percent,” Harvey said, enjoying the soft smile it got out of Mike.

“And I was surprised at …I don’t know how to say this….”

“Just say it.”

“How much I didn’t enjoy the ‘getting used like a fucktoy’ part. I thought it would be hot and it kind of was, but I mostly felt …alone. Whereas the part with the clips and the chain? That … for some reason, that was a lot better.”

“Because my focus was on you. We were more connected with each other, not less.”

“Maybe,” Mike reached up for another quick kiss then settled back in. “I don’t know. I’m still up for experimenting, but I get the sense you don’t want it that rough with me again, anyway. Am I right?”

"You’re right,” Harvey said. “I don’t.”

Mike started to say – or ask – something more, then stopped. Harvey could see his confusion; Mike feeling a tension in the air he couldn’t define. Then he watched it dawn. 

Why did Mike always have to catch on to everything so goddamn fast?

“Oh… _no_ ….” Mike looked like he felt sick.

“Don’t,” Harvey said.

"You want it like that with other people. You don't want it with me, but you…”

"You can tell me no. You have the right to say no.”

"Sure. And if I do you won’t, but you'll want to. And I’ll be ‘the reason you can’t.’"

"Hey," Harvey nudged him. "That’s not your problem.”

"If this were reversed," Mike sounded sad. "And I decided I needed more but not from you….”

"I’d let you,” Harvey said. "As long as I got to vet the dom. It would hurt, but I would.”

Mike looked sick, still. And worse yet, wounded.

"I am so goddamned good at this," he said. "At screwing myself over."

"We’re not broken," Harvey said. "I mean it. If I even do this, I’ll only be tending to a need I’ve been pushing back. It's got nothing to do with the part of me that's yours."

"Isn't that what you had me tell Rachel last year? We both know where that went."

"This is different."

"How?” Mike’s tone could have been taken as sarcastic, but there was a crack back there in his voice that said the question was genuine.

"Please don't worry," Harvey told him. “You have all the say.”

“Wow. I’m an idiot,” Mike clearly wasn’t buying it. “You brought us here instead of your place so that you can walk out if I get really pissed off at you.”

“No,” Harvey said. “I brought us here so that if you got upset…. you wouldn’t have to make it home alone.”

“Go,” Mike jumped up, taking his glass to the kitchen.

“You want me to?” Harvey stayed seated; watched Mike walking toward his room.

“Yes,” Mike said. “No.”

Harvey saw him stop and turn like he might come back – then do another one-eighty. 

“Mike…”

“Do whatever you want,” Mike waved an arm back at him. “You will, anyway.”

The bedroom door got flung so hard Harvey felt the reverberations when it slammed.

He finished his bourbon and waited. No Mike.

Then he searched up his jacket; stood in Mike’s hallway, a hand on the doorknob for a few seconds after the lock clicked.

And he went home.


	4. p

Mike called in sick Monday and it was a long day. But for Harvey, Tuesday was tougher because Mike came in and got down to business without a word.

“Can you hang back?” 

He timed it; asked him as Louis and his flock of newbies left the conference room after an 11:00 a.m. meeting. 

“I know this is about work,” Mike said, aimed half at him and half at the door. “Isn’t it?”

“Please listen…” Harvey stayed seated. "…For one minute."

Well, that did it.

“I asked you for a few _days_..." Mike jumped like he was spring-loaded, pulling out his phone and waving it in his face. "You agreed. See? Here: 'Give me a few days, Harvey,' and you wrote 'K,' which is always short for 'okay' on a text message, isn’t it?”

“Let me speak my piece, and then I'll give you all the breathing room you want.” 

“Fine," Mike pressed some buttons, turned the screen around again, and Harvey saw the stopwatch app. "You've got fifty eight seconds."

“Domming and … being with someone have always been separate matters for me. I only made two exceptions: For you, and…”

“Not helping,” Mike shook his head. “Bringing _her_ up? Not improving my mood.”

“And even with her…we weren’t exclusive. I thought if I was open and honest…”

“This is a nightmare," Mike said.

Harvey let some of his precious seconds tick away to really look at him: How deeply unhappy he looked - tense and worn down at the same time. At the dark half-moons under his eyes, like he hadn't slept.

"I'm so sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"Yeah. But you did." Mike was looking resolutely at the floor.

"What I can do to make it better?"

That got an edge of a smile out of Mike, but it wasn't a happy one.

"Try this: Take some time, later, and imagine me submitting to someone else. Not in theory - really picture it. Can you tell me it wouldn't burn a _hole_ in your brain?”

“I’d set you up with someone I trust...” Harvey sat back. “And I wouldn’t let it.”

"Sure; put it in a box labeled ‘Mike screwing other people’ and tape it shut. That's not twisted.”

“It’s healthier than dwelling. Which is what you’re doing, even though I haven’t ..."

“What are you _waiting_ for?" Mike's arms flew, a gesture aimed generally at the outside windows and the city, his voice going up an octave with that scratchy thing in it that said he was losing his shit. "You gave me notice _days_ ago, Harvey. Go get some!" 

"Jesus, Mike...come on…”

He started to get up, but Mike was flipping the phone back in his pocket and leaving. 

"No. Minute's up."

~*~

“It was always going to go like this, you know?” 

Mike heard the proclamation as he found the one carton of milk in the fridge that didn’t smell foul, and poured some in his coffee. 

“What was _always gonna_ Louis?”

“You two.”

Great. This is what he needed ninety seconds after being cornered by Harvey.

"Do you spend a lot of time worrying about us?"

"He’s not capable of a long-term relationship," Louis ignored the question. "I’ve wondered how you could maintain your denial about it. Makes some sense, though: You’re smart, but I’ve never seen much like wisdom out of you.”

“Don’t you have a dead tree branch to hang out on? You … sad, _sad_ … turkey vulture?”

Louis left with his usual annoyed smirk, but he looked wounded - and that felt good. 

Mike drank his coffee over the sink, hands shaking. Louis could be right or wrong. He didn’t know. All he did know is he missed the life he’d thought he had last week.

~*~

“Got a minute?” A voice asked from Harvey’s office doorway early Thursday evening.

He was locking his desk drawers, getting ready to leave. 

“For you?” Harvey pocketed his keys and nodded Jessica in. “I’ve got an hour.”

“No you don’t, or you’ll be late for the charity ball,” she pulled a chair up. "And you need to go change into a tux, so... I'll keep it brief."

“About that. It's been a really long week. I don’t suppose there’s any way….”

“No, Harvey. I attended the last two dinners, so go charm them for us.”

“Great. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m going to ask you a question. I’ll preface it by saying that I don’t want… details."

Harvey watched her arrange herself precisely in the chair. He tried to keep a straight face, as if he had no idea where she was going but he couldn’t because, well, it was obvious.

“Jessica…”

“What the hell's wrong with you and Mike?”

“We hit a rough patch,” Harvey said, but could see it wasn’t going to be enough. “It’s my fault, not his. I’m a greedy bastard. That’s the extent of it.”

She gave him a look that said falling on his sword wasn’t enough.

“He knew that going in, so… whatever's gone awry is not all your fault.”

Harvey waited a beat to proceed.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Remember the huge stack of paperwork you signed, both of you, acknowledging responsibility for any impact to the company if…”

“Sure. I still have a callus on my finger from the pen pressing into it.”

“Good. Then, fix this or end it,” she got up to go, as crisply and efficiently as she'd sat down. “You know which I’d prefer.”

“I _have_ to fix it,” Harvey said, to himself as much as to her. “If I don’t, I could lose him and… I'm afraid of what I'll turn into. What I might never have again.”

Apparently his tone of voice conveyed how out of control of his fate he was feeling, because it got a ninety-degree eye roll out of her.

“Oh, my God, Harvey, I don't understand. How is _he_ the one that got under your skin?"

“I’d be glad to explain,” Since he couldn't lean on her, Harvey went with glib instead: Sat back, making his chair rock, giving her a little eye-lock and biting his lower lip, watching her damn near blush. “I can explain... at length. But you said no details.”

“Figure it out. Fix it,” Jessica held up a finger in response to the question forming on his lips. “After the client dinner.”

“Any advice?” Harvey got up leave, too. “How to get back into his good graces?”

“It may be cliché, but expensive jewelry works wonders.”

“Mike’s not much for bling."

“Then give him your heart. All of it. It seems to be what he wants most, God help him.”

Her words kicked around his head his whole car ride home, and even as he got ready for the dinner. Harvey drove himself there: Took the West Side Highway and watched the lights come on along the river, thinking about it some more. He felt like he'd given so much of himself, but Mike wanted more. 

Did he have it in him? And if not Mike, could he ever commit to anyone?

~*~

Mike flipped through the gated menu, waiting on Frank the bartender.

He hadn’t been sure what to do with his Thursday night: Couldn’t hang with Donna because she had taken a long weekend. Sure as hell couldn’t hang with Rachel. And… Harvey…

His feet and the subway led him to a favorite Italian place of theirs: Booths, Formica tabletops, jukebox flipping actual 45s. 

“You were on my flight from Cincinnati to JFK,” a voice said. “Business class, second row. Blue shirt, and Beats headphones on. You had eyeshades on your forehead, ready to flip them down after takeoff…”

“Excuse me?” Mike sized up the guy pointing at him on his way by the busy bar; white button down, and five hundred dollar jeans. Wire frame glasses. Dark hair, not quite long. 

Kind of cute. Not that it mattered.

“I’m Ethan,” Cute guy reached in for a handshake. “I didn’t mean to be rude, it just.. hit me... walking by. I saw you, and it was like I was on that plane again.”

“That was almost a week ago, Ethan. Have you got a crush on me?”

“No. Forget it. Sorry; I have a way of putting people off with my photographic memory.”

“Tell me about it. I've flipped more than a few people out with mine. I imbibe words.”

“Mine is more visual,” Ethan gestured around the bar “I can tell you what was on the movie theater billboard on Sunset Strip two years ago. Almost…useless. Right?”

“Don't undersell yourself. You’d be great on a crime scene task force.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’m an architect and I pass out at the sight of blood.”

“That would limit your law enforcement fieldwork options.”

“Want to join us?" Ethan nodded toward a booth in back, where a group was gathering. "Friends from my firm are having drinks and apps…”

Mike started to say no, but… it was just dinner with some fellow professionals about his age. Not like he was gonna take anyone home and fuck them, the way Harvey probably would take someone home and fuck them sometime this weekend. Not that Mike was still thinking about it, because he wasn't.

“Sure,” He grabbed his drink. “Glad to. Thanks.”

~*~

Harvey's got the corporate event patter down: Walk and shake hands, walk some more and touch a shoulder. Listen, smile, compliment. After this week? He can't wait to do one more circuit of the ballroom and get the hell home - to hear the click of his door shutting.

"How's it hanging, Harvey?"

Screw his luck. Of all the...

"Right now? It's retracting into my body at the sight of you."

"Don't be scared, handsome."

"Disgusted, Jimmy. And sorry to see you."

Jimmy Jakes is the guy he'd been picturing when cooking up the story for Mike about making him hand over pictures of himself; a dom with a longtime rep for cruelty and no finesse. 

"Is that any way to talk to someone who's hooked you up? I found you that Jason kid...."

"Yeah. Thanks for that: He tried to frame me."

"Hmm. Rings a bell. I knew he was a little wild-eyed, but...I don't suppose you'd tell me the deal with the boy who works with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Mike Foss? Ross? He's got that Eau de Needy Sub scent on him. And a spark; like he’s still got a lot of spirit left to break. Every time I see him I want to..."

"I'll warn him you're interested. And if you ever try? I'll kick you 'til you're dead."

"Ah. Well. Good for you, Harvey. You've always been a lucky bastard."

"There's no such thing as luck," Harvey said, happy to hear it come out with a lilt - to have kept his anger and his vocal cords separate from each other.

He watched Jakes go, and couldn't stop it: revulsion churning through him, tightening his throat and turning his stomach until he felt sick.

~*~

Mike hit the cold tap and leaned over the bathroom sink of the leather dive bar, splashing his face. It helped but... he still felt like he could puke.

It was _weird_ , because he hadn't eaten or drunk much; not at the restaurant, not after his new acquaintances headed home and Mike hit a nightclub alone. Not on the walk from the club to a dive bar, where he decided to observe leather daddies and their subs at play.

Apparently his horizons needed broadening, if things were going to work out.

He reached for a paper towel, and now the floor wasn't consistently meeting his feet ... was ... _undulating_. His jaw was tight and his legs wooden; his... arm.... he couldn't feel it, where his hand was pressed against the towel dispenser. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shuffled three steps toward a stall. That was a hell of an adventure, trying to walk and also get a hand inside his pocket at the same time. He managed too well: Almost threw the phone, lurching for it as it fell toward the toilet. 

"Oh.... _no_....” realization sank in.

He grabbed for it with both hands, batting it to the floor and...

"Oh, _hell_...." he sat fully clothed on the toilet, flipping the door lock and then reaching around on the floor for it, limbs twice as stiff and useless as they had been moments ago. "Shit....you.... _bastard_..."

Whoever it was; whoever had roofied him? They could rot in hell.

"Answer. Please, answer..." 

Mike slid to the floor - less distance to fall and hit his head if he passed out.

The phone was ringing. His ears were, too. A fuzzy black cloud was encroaching on the edges of his vision, pushing in.

~*~

"Mike, call 9-1-1 right now. I'm hanging up. What do you mean, you can't?"

Harvey had never left a work thing so fast; tossing a tip at the valet, buckling up at the same time, putting his phone on hands free as he pulled his car onto Park Avenue.

"I can't.... move....mussh..." Mike's words were even more slurred than when Harvey picked up the call in the ballroom. "'An' no ... no cops. No…no."

"If you can't tell me where you are - the name of the bar or the street? Then you have to call 9-1-1," Harvey headed toward Fifth; wherever Mike was would likely be south of him. "Or...try this: Take a picture, go to post it, and tag it. See what location comes up?”

"Tha's... 'mazing idea. Can' believe you've..tagged...anythhh...ng...evrrr...."

"This isn't the time to be impressed with my social media skills. Do it."

"Aero Bar...." 

" _Dammit!_ " Harvey made an extra sharp right turn onto Madison at the last second: Mike was uptown, after all. "I'm on the way. Mike?"

No reply.

When he got there, he had to park and run half a block. Then there was a large, busy bar to get through. Harvey barely noticed the turned heads it got - a man in a tux running straight to the mens'. 

"Woah, stop! Do not..." He growled at the guys examining the stall door, like they were deciding if they could rock it off its hinges. One had his phone out. "Don't call anyone."

 _Just trying to help, man,_ one of them said as they filed out.

Harvey rattled the door. Was almost sorry he'd chased them off, until it slid open a crack.

"Aw... _hell_ , Mike…"

He was slumped against the wall; clothes disheveled, face grey and damp with sweat. Despite all that - and it was bad - Mike was laughing. Softly. Deeply. Laughing at him.

"You....loo...k... _ridic_....."

"You've got to help…" Harvey leaned in to grab him. "Try to get up…."

"You looook... like a swan in a....sew....wer."

"I can't carry you out of here over my back without someone calling the cops, so...up. C'mon.....now!"

Mike did: Even though he was almost paralyzed by whatever he'd been dosed with, he tried. Harvey got them to his car a step at a time, and… damn if despite the awfulness of it he wasn't laughing, too.

"Thann 's..." Mike breathed out once they were moving.

"Don't thank me," Harvey said. "I don't deserve it. Mike….”

He stopped - because he was officially talking to himself.

~*~

He woke and sank, woke and sank. The closer he came to consciousness, the worse he felt; dry, dizzy, hurting - like he'd run a marathon and taken a beating at the finish line. 

"What year is it?" He heard Harvey ask.

Mike rolled onto his back to look up at him.

"It's 2036."

As bad as he felt? This was so good: Being in Harvey's bed. Their bed. 

Looking up at him - Harvey in a pair of shorts and a v-neck tee, pen scratching over some paperwork on his lap - Mike got flashes of last night’s events: Harvey half carrying him into the apartment, getting him to bed, urging Mike to say something. He couldn't - had gone past losing control of his limbs, barely able to shake his head no. 

So Harvey had tended to him. Took apart Mike's tie, his shirt, murmuring in his ear, telling him he was okay as he undid his shoes, his pants. Mike remembered Harvey stretching out by him; saying not to be afraid; he'd be right here.

"Who's the president?" Harvey asked, barely glancing away, pen still scratching.

"I'd tell you," It came out rough; Mike swallowed, eyes closing. "But I'd have to kill you."

"I've felt so … torn." Harvey said, and Mike felt fingers along his cheek, his temple, running through his hair. "I should have driven you straight to the hospital."

"I’m really, really glad you didn't. I don’t need that right now."

"You've been out cold for sixteen hours, Mike."

Well that got his attention: He pulled himself up to sitting.

"Shit! We had a hearing..."

"Don't worry. I told Jessica whatever you came down with Monday is back with a vengeance. She got it moved."

"Was she pissed?"

"She tried to be. But she was laughing so hard at the idea of me nursing someone….she may still be laughing.”

~*~

Harvey's shower felt like heaven; the simple joys of soap, razor, toothbrush and thick towels bringing him to life. By the time he was at the dining room table digging into a bowl of soup, Mike was almost back on solid ground. 

Almost.

"There's been an epidemic of people doping drinks, lately,” Harvey sat next to him, having coffee while Mike ate. "GHB, mostly. Liquid X. Happened in several places in the West Village and Soho, and some bars downtown, too."

"Now you tell me. How do you know this?

"I read; newspapers, magazines. They have them online now..."

"Stop. I already feel like an idiot."

"Hey…” Harvey’s hand reached out to wrap around Mike’s free one, and Mike let him. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. Whoever did this to you...it's on them. Bastards. "

"I was with some people I met at Albertinos," Mike blurted, eyes firmly on the bowl of soup. "I met them at happy hour."

"Yeah?"

"It ...wasn't anything. Just someone at the bar..."

"It's fine. You don't have to explain. Do you think they...."

"No. This didn't start until an hour after they left. I went to a couple of places after that. I think... I'm pretty sure it happened where you found me.”

"There could be surveillance video….”

"No," Mike shook off his hand. "I don't want to go there. I'm just relieved I knew what was happening to me."

"Getting into the stall was smart. If whoever did this had steered you into a car…”

Mike shivered at the thought, then stared at Harvey, something awful dawning.

"What?" Harvey asked.

"You know this wasn't your fault, either," Mike said, pushing away the empty soup bowl and picking up the half a sandwich that was left. "And you never beat yourself up for no good reason, so... why the sad, shaken face?"

"It can wait," Harvey said. "It should wait until you're feeling..."

"I'm fine,” Mike said, chewing. "Say it. Whatever you have to say. Even if you're ending …us... just frigging say it."

"Ending….why do you…think…" There was hope in how Harvey went from looking miserable to confused.

"I get it; I'm not enough for you, and this was the last straw. You're looking at me like this was the last straw."

"You're way off, Mike,” Harvey said. "I'm upset over what you've been through. And about something that happened before you called me."

"You were at a work thing. What could have happened at a work thing that would...."

"Someone inquired about you."

"Oh?"

"Settle that eyebrow down, please. He’s evil."

"Great," Mike dropped what was left of the sandwich, his appetite officially gone.

"I told him if he ever..."

"That's it? Some random jerk asked about me and...."

"It wasn't only him, it was... the idea of you with anyone else. Mike, I get it. I don't know how to tell you except to say that I get it. It repulsed me."

"It ripped the top off the box?" Mike asked, pressing a crumb from his sandwich into the table top, biting his lip to fight the sting of tears in his eyes. "Burned a hole in your brain?"

"Yes," Harvey said. "It did. I felt...sick."

"That's how I've been feeling," Mike lost the battle to not cry; settled for blinking his tears back as best he could, wiping one away with a thumb. "I felt… gutted. Hollow. Like I'd misunderstood what we were doing."

"I'm so….so sorry," Harvey reached an arm out along the table, asking for his hand, again, and Mike gave it back to him. "Tell me how to fix it?"

"Get me more soup," Mike looked away, breathing in a deep, shuddering breath. "I could really use some more soup."

Thankfully, Harvey understood: There would be more to talk about, but for right now Mike mostly wanted to not fall apart in front of him. 

Once he was done eating, Mike was the one who got up and reached for Harvey's hand, walking him toward the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Harvey asked, following.

"Don't get excited," Mike said. "I need more sleep."

~*~

"I missed something," Donna said from her desk. "While I was away. What happened?"

"Good morning," Harvey kept walking. "You didn't.”

"Don't try to throw me off the scent," She followed; stood in his doorway while Harvey settled in at his desk. "Save us both time, and tell me."

"Mike and I were briefly not on the same page about some things. Now we are."

"That's the edited version," she stood her ground. "Do I have to get the rest out of him?"

"You won't," Harvey logged onto his computer. "We're on the same page about that, too; no one gets anything about either of us from the other one again. Ever."

"Wow, that ... is _huge_ ," She headed back for her desk. "When's the wedding?"

"Don't!" Harvey didn't get up. "Don't use that word. No instigating."

~*~

"Good morning," Louis said.

“’Morning," Mike sat in his Monday spot in the conference room. "We're first?"

"Well, no one else is here yet, so...yes," Louis said. “We’re first.”

Mike reviewed his notes; felt Louis' eyes on him as he did.

"What?"

"Huh," Louis said. 

It took a minute to land; how deeply content he must look. Deeply physically and emotionally content. Mike felt his face warming, but couldn't resist giving Louis a little 'yeah: man, when you're wrong, you're really wrong' grin.

Happily, the others started filing in for the meeting.

~*~

It took time before they were fully _them_ again, but they worked at it together. As they made their way Harvey watched him, and decided maybe jewelry was part of the answer.

“What’s this?” Mike nodded at the flat six by six inch box Harvey wordlessly set before him.

They were at the kitchen counter finishing a very early Saturday breakfast, about to head upstate to breathe clean air and watch leaves turn colors.

“It’s something I’m not sure I have the right to give you, yet. You’ll have to tell me.”

The box was wrapped in Tiffany Blue paper; no bow, no ribbon. Wrapped so snugly and perfectly you couldn’t see even a sliver of tape.

Mike tried to look only vaguely interested; eyed it while he ate the last of his toast. But it was too intriguing: He grabbed it and ripped it open like Christmas morning, watching Harvey huff and shake his head at his child-like glee over a present.

“Woah,” Mike set the box down.

“I don’t want you to wear it unless …until you’re sure,” Harvey offered. “Don’t be afraid to tell me if we need to put it in a drawer.”

Mike picked up the day collar, running the thin, smooth solid gold links over his fingers. The chain was long enough to sit low on his neck under a dress shirt but could be clasped at various lengths. There was a loop with a gold ‘O’ ring through it, and a thin gold plate on the front. 

That’s what his eyes were fixed on: The plate, with a small engraved ‘p’ followed by a space and then the initials HRS. 

“This… um… it’s…” Mike’s thumb traced the engraving over and over. “It’s what I think it is?”

“It’s a protection collar. If you agree to wear it, you’re under my protection. To anyone who knows what it says….it says that you belong to me.”

“There’s no padlock.” Mike observed.

He liked the idea of a flat, gold padlock sitting at the back of his neck.

“There is. It’s in your toy drawer. I think….we should only use it when we play, like for the weekend.”

“Why?”

“Because the rest of the time … well, it’s safer for one thing. And if it’s only clasped, it means you could take it off. It means you choose to belong to me.”

Mike nodded; felt his breath go shallow, tears pricking at his eyes. Not so different from the other week, but so, so different. Thankfully, Harvey saw it too and showed him some mercy – walked around the counter to stand behind him, to wrap him in his arms, mouth near the tip of Mike’s ear.

“Can I put it on you?”

Mike nodded; set the chain in Harvey’s hand. 

“You can wear it here for work,” Harvey draped it low, then lifted it an inch or so higher. “And here on the weekend. And when we play….”

He lifted it midway up Mike’s neck and clasped it there: Tight, just short of too tight, the plate smooth against his skin. 

Mike gasped softly at the feeling; at how it made his head start to spin, made him want to lean back on Harvey. He felt him unhook it to let it drop lower but Mike pressed on the plate to keep it where it sat.

“You want to play?” Harvey asked, pressing him against the counter with his body. “Now?”

“All weekend,” Mike said. “Please, sir?”

“Absolutely,” Harvey refastened it; fingers coming around to tug at the ring and pull Mike’s head down, kissing his neck, biting the muscle along one shoulder just hard enough to make him jump, hands pressing on the counter. “Let’s get the lock, then.”

 

~*~

Harvey finally felt home; in his bed, _their_ bed, twisting around with Mike nice and easy until they were both breathless.

Mike’s wrists were crossed and bound with PVC tape; tied tight to the headboard, now, after almost an hour of paddle and prostate massager, plug and slow, patient edging with Harvey’s hands and mouth. There was a chain through the ‘O’ ring, and alligator clips ad the ends of the chain pushing Mike’s areolas into high peaks. 

Harvey dropped down to mouth at them once more; to collect a few last frustrated whines and _fuck_ s out of Mike. Then he pushed those legs back and wide; nipped at Mike’s thighs as he got rid of the plug. Arranged him so; hips up a little as he pushed in, then pushed in deeper.

“Shit…oh,…. _nooo_ …” Mike’s lower body twisted as the clips came off his chest. “…that hurts….. _shit_.”

His hips bucked and he involuntarily squeezed around Harvey again and again, his body processing the ache, until Harvey was swearing softly, too, head dropping from the strong waves of pleasure. 

It made Harvey have to push; taking Mike gently, then harder, faster, fucking him into the mattress until the bed was thumping the wall, their hearts racing, Mike groaning and shaking, falling off the rails for him and….

It was so good… getting some of what he wanted; and seeing Mike get everything he needed.

There was no guarantee the road ahead wouldn’t have bumps. But on this? No more doubts. Those days were done.

They each knew they belonged to the other, now.


End file.
